


Here and Now

by InkDrawnDreamer



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: DeBlanc just wants him to feel okay, Fiore has nightmares, Fluffy Angst, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, defiore, rated T for angels making out, this turned out cornier than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkDrawnDreamer/pseuds/InkDrawnDreamer
Summary: After DeBlanc's return from Hell, Fiore still relives his death in his nightmares. When DeBlanc realizes after seeing it for himself, he tries to comfort him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theblindtorpedo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/gifts).



The dream always started the same way. They were standing in the saloon in Ratwater, face-to-face with their dreaded target. DeBlanc lifted his head to speak and then—bang—he fell to the ground, eyes open wide, blood spilling from his mouth, ice-cold and stiff as a board, leaving his partner completely alone. Fiore had had the dream almost every night since his return. It often startled him awake in the dark, wee hours of the morning, when he was still alone in the waking world. He usually awoke with his mouth open, just shy of screaming, and drenched in his own cold sweat. After a while, the nightmares had spawned a routine of their own: he woke up in a panic, he checked to make sure that DeBlanc was still breathing beside him, then he changed into a dry shirt and tried his best to return to sleep. Tonight, the pattern was the same—for the most part.

“Fiore?”

But this time, he did not wake up alone. As he shot up in bed, he felt the gentle brush of fingers on his bare shoulder. His eyes followed them to their source, to DeBlanc’s wide, worried eyes and tired stare.

“Oh.” The angel’s shoulders sank. “You’re awake.”

“You were shouting in your sleep.” DeBlanc’s grip tightened. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”

The question was all it took to break the dam, and Fiore let the flood come on without a fight. He sobbed freely against his partner’s shoulder, having reached the limit for his weariness long ago. “You were dead,” he mumbled between sharp breaths, “We’re down there—and you—you wouldn’t co-come back–”

“Shh.” He buckled and fell into the demon’s arms. “Shh, hush now. I’m alright. We’re not down there anymore.” DeBlanc brushed the tears from Fiore’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I am right here. With you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He coaxed Fiore into his lap and gently laced their fingers together. “You believe me, don’t you, my dear?”

He nodded with a slight hiccup. DeBlanc brought Fiore’s hand to his face and slowly began kissing each of his knuckles. It seemed to calm him down a little—it always did. He pulled the angel’s other hand toward his own chest to let it rest firmly atop his breastbone. “Do you feel that?”

Fiore nodded again. It was faint, but he could indeed feel the slight thump of a heartbeat against his palm. DeBlanc coaxed the man’s head into the crook of his neck, his fingertips dragging lightly through the his partner’s hair as he did, and began rubbing his back in slow circles. He could feel Fiore’s body relax beneath the weight of his arm. His voice was no longer cracked and his breathing had slowed to its normal pace. He locked his arms around DeBlanc’s neck like a collar as he settled into his lap.

“I don’t want to lose you again, not like that,” Fiore mumbled. “Never again.”

You won’t, DeBlanc wanted to say, but even he did not believe it. With the preacher and the Saint both thrown into the mix now, they were somehow in an even worse mess than before. And even if, by some miracle, they managed to escape that particular realm of conflict, they couldn’t hope to escape whatever punishment their superiors might have in store.

“I can protect myself.” The least he could do was try comfort him. “And we didn’t make that deal in hell for nothing.”

“Maybe.” Fiore sounded exhausted. DeBlanc hated seeing him so upset. So drained.

“Fiore, darling.” He pressed his palm against the curve of the angel’s cheek. “I will not let anyone take you away from me. Not Heaven, not Hell, not that arrogant preacher, nobody. Understand?”

Fiore stared at him silently. He answered him not with his words, but by lunging at his mouth. The suddenness of it took DeBlanc off-guard, but in no time he was kissing him back. He met the angel’s hungry fervor with a gentle force, cupping his face in his hands as he returned the gesture. Fiore tasted like sweet water, pure and clean and mildly warm, like an oasis in a desert. To him, DeBlanc’s lips tasted like smoke, seeming to almost crackle against his own, at once warm and cold—and he craved it like a drug.

They had honestly missed this. It’s not like they never showed affection when they were still in Heaven, but it was always risky, and here they had been too wrapped up in finding Genesis to focus on one another. Right here, however, they might as well have been the only people on Earth.

They broke apart briefly, just enough time for Fiore’s lips to find the demon’s neck and begin trailing small kisses down his windpipe. A muffled whine rattled in DeBlanc’s throat as he pulled him closer, just about toppling them both in the process. He snaked his arms around his lover’s waist while he left a line of butterfly kisses across the curve of his jaw. He lifted Fiore into his arms, allowing him to comfortably nestle in his lap. Slowly but surely their anxiety was evaporating, replaced instead by the reassurance of their fumbling limbs, groping at skin and fabric as they found each other’s lips again.

“I will never leave you,” DeBlanc mumbled against Fiore’s pouting mouth. He laid his cheek against his partner’s, enjoying the soft touch of his skin.

“I know.” Fiore whispered as he pecked him on his temple.

Neither could say how long they stayed there. It didn’t really matter, because for the time being, they still had each other to cling to. Their exhausted bodies made the decision for them to stay that way for a while longer, shielded beneath the weight of the comforter. They might as well. They could face the uncertainty of the future when the sun was up.


End file.
